


heaven sent (he's not)

by the_gayest_witch (perfection_located)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, Truth Serum, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13944984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfection_located/pseuds/the_gayest_witch
Summary: "Hecate, what's the matter? You're acting very strange." Pippa's brows are drawn together in concern."I believe I've accidentally inhaled some of the exi veritas during the very last of the brewing process," Hecate admits slowly. "I should- I should go before I say anything I regret.""What could you possibly-" The rest of Pippa's question is cut off when Hecate abruptly ends the call.There are approximately two brief, blissful seconds of silence before Hecate begins to cry.***truth potion prompt. no nonconsensual confessions, i swear. hiscsqueak.





	heaven sent (he's not)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from my tumblr @the-gayest-witch-at-cackle . any and all confessions are NOT under the influence of the potion, if youre as weird as i am about character autonomy
> 
> tw implied past child abuse

"The Great Wizard would like to speak to you," is the first thing Ada says when she approaches Hecate in her classroom. The just-dismissed third years are trailing out of the room, chatting away, and none of them notice the worried furrow of Ada's brow. "He is waiting in my office."  
  
"And what does he want?" asks Hecate, pursing her lips, the unspoken 'this time' hanging in the silence after her words. It is a poorly kept secret that Hecate finds the Great Wizard to be a man of questionable quality.   
  
Ada only shakes her head. "It would be best if he told you himself. I fear you will find his request... unpleasant."   
  
Hecate huffs out a sharp breath. That could mean any variety of things, she thinks, and none of them good. "Very well. It won't do to keep him waiting. Watch my first years for a few moments? We’ve begun switching spell theory."  
  
Ada nods and smiles tightly. "Of course." Hecate is about to transfer away when Ada places a firm hand on her arm and meets her eyes. "Hecate-" she pauses, unsure, unusually timid. "Be careful."  
  
Hecate pats Ada's hand and nods once, stiffly. "Of course." Then she is gone in a swirl of magic.   
  
Ada turns to the entering first years with a bright, kind smile, and nothing on her face betrays her pooling dread.  
  
***  
  
Hecate materializes in Ada's office behind the Headmistress' desk and seat. The Great Wizard is seated in one of Ada's guest chairs, looking for all the world as if he owns the very room. Hecate can already sense an oncoming headache.   
  
"Well met, your Greatness," she murmurs, pressing a hand to her forehead and bowing exactly one degree deeper than what could be considered disrespectful.   
  
"Well met, Hecate." The Great Wizard does not even bring a hand to his face, only nods shallowly. Hecate swallows her irritation at being called by her given name - she has never given this man permission to do so.  
  
"Miss Cackle informed me that you require my presence. How may I help you?" Hecate does not bother with niceties. She never has before, and she will certainly not make this effort for this _entitled_ excuse of a man.  
  
"Ah, always so direct." His smile is patronizing and Hecate's hand wraps itself around the back of Ada's chair. "As it happens, the Council has need of your skills as a potions mistress."   
  
"You require my consultation?" Hecate knows very well that this is not what The Great Wizard is after, but she cannot help but hope that she is wrong.   
  
The Great Wizard chuckles and Hecate's grip tightens until her knuckles turn white. "No, no, you misunderstand. We require you to brew a potion for a criminal trial."  
  
"The council's own potioneers are not capable?"   
  
The Great Wizard brushes off the subtle dig as though he as not even noticed it - most likely, he truly has not. "This potion is... delicate in nature. I am afraid that it beyond the skill of even our most experienced witches "   
  
Hecate's suspicions about what she is about to be asked begin to cement themselves. Her apprehension grows ever larger. "You have Clara Moonfly in your employ, your Greatness. I trained her myself. There are very few potions she could not brew for you. What is it you would have me make?"  
  
The Great Wizard finally gives up his casual pretence and leans forward in his seat, steepling his fingers. He looks like a pretentious fool. "The council requires an _exi veritas_ potion, Hecate."  
  
Ah. The truth-compulsion potion. Hecate can feel the dread-stone that has been forming drop to the very pit of her stomach. "With all due respect, your Greatness," she grinds out between clenched teeth as diplomatically as she can, "truth-compulsion potions and their related magics are strictly against the Code."  
  
There is that patronizing smile again, and Hecate experiences the brief impulse to slap it right off of the Great Wizard's face. "Usually, yes. But as I _am_ the Code, and I am requesting it, it can be allowed in this instance, if I say it's alright.”  
  
Hecate's careful composure snaps at last. "The Code cannot be ignored whenever it is convenient for you, Egbert Helibore! It is hundreds of years old, and you cannot simply _brush_ it aside as you please, Great Wizard or not! The Code is steeped in centuries if tradition and reasoning, and I will not break it because you _'say it's alright!_ "  
  
The Great Wizard jumps to his feet. "Watch your tone, Hecate," he demands, voice low and dangerous.  
  
Hecate scoffs. He scares her about as much as an indignant peacock. "I was already a teacher when you were crawling around in diapers, Helibore! You cannot intimidate me."  
  
"The Council requires this potion, and you are the only woman capable of brewing it within the British Isles. I have granted an exception for its use, and I am the Great Wizard. My word is law." The Great Wizard's voice thunders with all of the reasons that he was chosen for his position of power. Hecate will not be cowed.  
  
"Your power is granted by the Code itself, Helibore!" she argues. "You cannot bend the law to suit your whims!”  
  
The Great Wizards eye grow stormy. "Hecate Hardbroom, as a witch bound by the Code to serve The Great Wizard and the Magical Council of Britain to further the safety of Britain, I _command_ , on behalf of myself and the Council, that you brew the potion we have requested!"  
  
Hecate clenches her teeth and stares the Great Wizard down until can feel her magic buzzing in her throat and fingertips. Finally, she averts her gaze, staring at the floor, a muscle in her jaw twitching. The Great Wizard is right - she is bound both as an educator and as a certified potions mistress to serve the Great Wizard and his Council when called upon to serve her country. It is a clause in the Code intended to allow the Council to call up an army at a moment's notice during war, but it also allows the Great Wizard to call upon individual witches and wizards even during peacetime. Hecate cannot deny him. "Very well," she says at last, swallowing around the apprehension that has coated her throat, thick and heavy and bordering on poisonous. This will not end well.  
  
And so, with some half-formed pleasantries, the Great Wizard is gone, and Hecate is left alone with her racing heart and frantic thoughts.  
  
***  
  
"How dare he?" demands Hecate, pacing in front of Ada's desk. "How _dare_ he abuse his power like this?"  
  
Ada watches placidly from where she is seated in the plush armchair in front of the fire. The hands resting in her lap are the only indication of her distress, twisting around one another in repetitive motions.  
  
"I'm afraid that the Great Wizard is within his rights to request this of you."  
  
"A fact that I am _painfully_ aware of, _thank you,_ _Ada_!" Hecate shouts, ceasing her pacing to turn and stare directly at Ada, hands fisted at her sides.   
  
Ada only meets her accusing gaze with an even, neutral expression, until the tension drains suddenly from Hecate's shoulders and she buries her face in her hands, exhaling sharply. "I'm sorry, Ada," she mumbles. "I don't know what came over me."  
  
Ada gives Hecate a small smile. "It's quite alright, dear. I cannot even begin to imagine what this is like for you."  
  
Hecate takes a few steps and blindly collapses into the free armchair across from Ada. "I swore I'd never make a potion like that for a reason, Ada. For Egbert _bloody_ Helibore to come waltzing in and demand-" Hecate breaks off into a frustrated groan.   
  
Ada leans forward and places a hand on Hecate's knee. "It will be alright, Hecate, dear. I've made further enquiries, and the man they are questioning is the one who asked for the _exi veritas_. He has pled innocent to the charges they have brought against him and requested that he be subjected to it to prove his innocence. You are not forcing anyone to tell a truth they do not want to tell."  
  
Hecate sighs, comforted. "A small mercy, then." Straightening up, Hecate smooths her hair back from her face and takes a fortifying breath. "I'd best get brewing. This will take at least forty-eight hours to brew, and I have no time to lose if I want to be finished before classes resume on Monday."  
  
"Shall I expect you at dinner?" Ada enquires, although she almost certainly already knows the answer.   
  
"I think not. This brew will require near constant supervision." Hecate pauses. "Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure I will be able to-"  
  
Ada lifts a hand to silence Hecate. "I will ask Dimity to cover your evening rounds, and failing that, I will cover them myself. Do not worry yourself about the girls - the rest of the staff and I can keep them well in hand for the weekend."  
  
Hecate opens her mouth as though to respond before apparently thinking better of it. Then she nods once, and dissolves into the air.  
  
***  
  
Hecate wipes the sweat from her brow with a black handkerchief and steps back from the bubbling, purple potion. She has been holed up on her personal brewing space for two nights and two days, and the potion is nearing completion. She hasn't slept properly, and has eaten only in small bits and pieces during times when the potion could be left to rest. All that remains is extract of calla lilly, to be added in three minutes precisely, before the potion is complete.   
  
Of course, Mildred Hubble chooses that very moment to come knocking.  
  
Hecate is irritated but unsurprised when she opens the thick wooden door and finds Mildred on the other side, looking uncharacteristically bashful. In Hecate's presence, the young girl usually wears either nervousness or fear. Bashful is ... new. It makes Hecate pause.  
  
"Yes?" drawls Hecate. "What have you done this time?"  
  
Mildred shakes her head vigorously. "Nothing, Miss Hardbroom! I promise! I just..." she trails off before taking a deep breath. Is she _steeling_ herself? "I just wanted to ask if you would go over my potions essay with me. I- well, I haven't blown anything up in a couple of weeks, so I thought maybe you would be willing to help." Meekly, Mildred lifts the folder in her hands that Hecate had not previously noticed, holding it up as equal parts shield and peace offering.  
  
Hecate has to admit that she is momentarily shocked. When she does speak, however, it comes out as succinct and clipped as ever. "I am in the middle of brewing, and it is barely half an hour before curfew. Come back tomorrow evening _directly_ after dinner, provided you haven't managed to obtain a detention by then, and we will go over your work."  
  
Mildred doesn't so much as flinch at Hecate's not-so-subtle jab. Instead, she smiles wide and bright and hopeful and all the things Hecate has never before caused in Mildred Hubble. "Thank you, Miss Hardbroom! I promise I'll be there!"  
  
Hecate nods stiffly and closes the door in Mildred's face. Not her finest moment, she supposes, but she _is_ on a clock.   
  
She turns immediately back to her cauldron. The potion has turned exactly the shade of lilac that was called for; Hecate has roughly thirty seconds to add the lily extract. Moving quickly, she summons the final ingredient with a wave of her hand and pours it carefully into the cauldron. The mixture sizzles and released a light purple mist - she was two seconds too late, thanks to Mildred - but Hecate ignores it, too focused on stirring the potion thrice clockwise and once counter clockwise. The lilac color fades until the potion resembles water, crystal clear and still.  
  
Hecate bottles a single dose and labels it in her meticulous, spidery writing, allowing herself a small smile. A textbook _exi veritas_ -if they put this sort of thing in textbooks - even if she hadn't wanted to brew it in the first place, and done in time for her routine Sunday-night mirror chat with Pippa. It seems that nothing has gone wrong. This time.  
  
It takes seconds to clean up the mess, bottle the remainder of the potion for safe-keeping in her personal stores, and transfer back to her rooms. Hecate stores the single potion dose and its remains in the safely in her wardrobe, warding it with no less than three different alarms. The students have no way of knowing what she's been brewing, or even where it is stored, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful, especially with a potion as dangerous as this one.  
  
With her task finally over, she moves into her bathroom and lets her hair down from its bun with a flick of her fingers. With her other hand, she reapplies her characteristic red lipstick. She isn't primping, she tells herself, she just wants to look decent for her chat with Pippa. The quickened beat of her heart betrays her, even if it is only to herself.  
  
At 9PM precisely, her mirror chimes. Hecate answers immediately, unwilling to wait even a moment. Pippa's face swims into clarity, framed by wavy blonde hair. She is smiling warmly, and she looks tired, but content.  
  
"Hello, Pippa," greets Hecate, moving to sit in front of the mirror.   
  
"Hiccup! How are you?"  
  
"A bit tired," Hecate admits, touched even after all this time by Pippa's concern for her wellbeing. It is true, she is tired - she has not slept more than twenty minutes at a time for the past two days - but she is also willing to push through her exhaustion if the alternative is waiting another week to speak to Pippa. "And you? Have you found a replacement for Miss Spindlecraft now that she's retiring?”  
  
Pippa shakes her head and sighs, face falling. "No one qualified. Finding a traditional chanting mistress willing to work at such a 'modern school’ is difficult." Her face brightens. "I'm sure I'll find someone, though. I still have eight months! What have you been up to? You _do_ look quite tired, Hiccup, if you don't mind me saying so."  
  
"Brewing. I received a request from the Great Wizard for a difficult potion."  
  
Pippa frowns. "Surely the council has their own brewers?"   
  
"That's what I said, but this brew is..." Hecate pauses, looking for the best way to describe the situation without admitting to what she has brewed, "sensitive," she settles for.   
  
"Whatever was the brew?" probes Pippa, always curious.  
  
Hecate means to respond that it is confidential, and she cannot disclose the nature of the potion, but when she opens her mouth to do so, an entirely different answer falls from her lips. It bubbles up uncontrollably and suddenly. " _Exi Veritas._ "   
  
She snaps her mouth shut immediately, scowling. "I.. did not mean to tell you that," she mutters, mostly to herself.  
  
Pippa gapes in the mirror. " _Exi_ \- but Hecate, that’s against the Code!"  
  
"I am perfectly aware, Pippa. I only agreed when the Great Wizard went and pulled his _blasted_ rank as Great Protector of Magical Britain."  
  
"Why on _earth_ did he want it?"  
  
Again, Hecate makes to evade, but the words change somewhere along the route from her head to her lips. "A man requested it for his trial, to prove his innocence." Again, she snaps her mouth shut, suspicion growing heavy in her stomach.  
  
"Well that's certainly unorthodox. Hecate- Hecate, are you alright?" Apparently Pippa has picked up on Hecate's distress.  
  
"No, I don't think so. Pippa, ask me again how I am?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it. I have a suspicion," grinds out Hecate, wincing when the evasive answer sends a spike of pain through her skull.  
  
"But- oh, alright. How are you?"  
  
Hecate tries her damndest to say nothing, or to say she is fine, energetic even, but instead she says "entirely exhausted," and almost begins to cry frustrated tears.  
  
"Hecate, what's the matter? You're acting very strange." Pippa's brows are drawn together in concern.  
  
"I believe I've accidentally inhaled some of the _exi veritas_ during the very last of the brewing process," Hecate admits slowly. "I should- I should go before I say anything I regret."  
  
"What could you possibly-" The rest of Pippa's question is cut off when Hecate abruptly ends the call.   
  
There are approximately two brief, blissful seconds of silence before Hecate begins to cry. She is sick and tired of having her free will stripped away by _potions_ , damnit. First the personality-changing incident, then the love potion, and now _this._ Potions are supposed to be safe, and exact, and _known._ She’s supposed to be able to _control_ them. Instead, they've taken to controlling her. She wants to scream. As it is, she summons a pillow from her bed and presses her face into it, growling loudly.   
  
Hecate would have been content to sit there, face buried in her pillow, until the potion wears off, but minutes later there is a frantic knock at her door. Resisting the urge to blow something up, Hecate stalks over to the door to her chambers and yanks it violently open.   
  
Pippa Pentangle stands there in all of her pink glory, with flushed cheeks and tangled hair, clearly just having undertaken multiple long-distance transfers in quick succession. The excess magic is sparking in the air around her.   
  
"P-pippa?" stutters Hecate. "What are you doing here?"   
  
"Well, you hung up quite suddenly, and you wouldn't pick up any if my calls, and I was worried, Hecate. You can't tell a girl that you've accidentally ingested a Code-forbidden potion and then just disappear!"  
  
"Pippa," Hecate says, slowly, fighting the rising panic in her chest. "I need- I need you to leave. Before I say something I can't take back and ruin our friendship all over again." Hecate winces at the raw emotion in her voice, at the honesty she has not chosen.  
  
"What could you possibly need to hide so badly?" demands Pippa.   
  
Hecate fights against responding until her vision begins to swim, face twisting into a pained visage. _Don't answer, don't answer, don't answer,_ she chants in her head. She knows what _exi veritas_ will force out of her, knows the confession that she fears the most.  
  
Pippa gasps at Hecate's distress. "No, you don't have to answer that, I'm sorry, please, don't answer!"  
  
Hecate's breath leaves her in one sharp rush and the pain clawing behind her eyes fades abruptly. "Thank you," she whispers.  
  
"Hecate, what- no, sorry. Just... can I help? Is there an antidote?"  
  
Hecate presses her lips together and shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. I must simply wait, until the effects have worn off."  
  
Pippa frowns. "That's... unfortunate." She seems to take note that she is still standing in the hallway. "Can I come in? I'd at least like to keep an eye on you. This sort of potion can have some awful side effects if brewed even a little bit wrong."  
  
Hecate steps aside and beckons Pippa towards her sofa, closing the door softly. "I brewed it perfectly, thank you," she snaps, without bite.  
  
"You also managed to inhale it accidentally," Pippa points out. "Who knows, something else may have gone wrong."  
  
"Very well," acquiesces Hecate, pursing her lips. "You make a valid point. Just-," she pauses, sitting across from Pippa in an armchair. "Just don't ask me anything, please. I fear I'd tell you my darkest secret, right now, if only you asked."  
  
Pippa nods solemnly. "I won't ask anything, I promise. I'd just like to stick around until the effects are gone." Pippa smiles gently. "I'm sure they won't last long. You couldn't have inhaled much."  
  
Hecate nods, unwilling to speak unless entirely necessary.  
  
For a few long, awkward moments, Pippa observes Hecate with a piercing gaze. Then she settles back into the couch and summons a book at random from one of Hecate's many bookshelves with a snap of her fingers. _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. It is the exact copy that Pippa had gifted Hecate for her 13th birthday, insisting that the tall, awkward girl should expand her reading into books by non-magical authors. It was Hecate's favorite book. She has held onto it all of these years.  
  
Opening to the first page, Pippa begins to read in a low, soft voice. "The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac..."   
  
Hecate allows Pippa's voice to wash over her, relaxing back into the armchair. Pippa, wonderful Pippa, is guaranteeing that Hecate will not have to speak, will not have to say anything that she does not want to. Pippa's reading is expressive and smooth, a lilting cadence.  
  
Hecate does not even notice herself drift off.  
  
***   
  
Pippa finishes the first chapter and shuts the book softly, setting it by her side.  
  
She had been touched when she realized that the book she had summoned at random was, in fact, the book that she'd gifted Hecate all those years ago.  
  
Smiling in reminiscence, she snaps her fingers to elongate the armchair the Hecate is sleeping on into a long, wide sofa. She summons a blanket and stands, draping it softly over Hecate's sleeping form. She tucks the edges in tightly, the way she knows Hecate likes, and settles herself back into her sofa to read in silence and keep watch.  
  
She is halfway through chapter 8 when it all goes terribly wrong.  
  
***  
  
Hecate is having a nightmare she hasn't had in years. Her father is looming over her, more a shadow than a man, and the only thing she feels is terror.  
  
Knowing it is a dream, that she is a fully grown witch, does not help - on bad days, she sometimes still feels like nothing but a scared little girl playing dress-up.   
  
"You've disappointed me again." His voice drips, poisonous tar from his lips, across the floor, up around Hecate's ankles. She cannot run from Him. She does not know what she had done this time, but she knows it does not matter anyways.  
  
"Please, Papa," she whispers. In this dream, her little-girl self is not yet old enough to know that speaking only makes it worse. 

  
He growls and the tar spreads up to Hecate's knees, her hips, sticking her long black nightgown to her legs. It burns where it touches, like fire in her blood.   
  
"Please," she whimpers, thrashing her legs uselessly. They are trapped.  _ She  _ is trapped.   
  
"Hecate, wake up! Hiccup, please wake up, please!" And this voice is not tar-heavy. It is clear like water, but frantic, sharp like knives. "Please," cries the voice. " _ Please _ , Hiccup, it's time to wake up now."   
  
Hecate is brought back into herself with a gasp, eyes shooting open, sitting upright and nearly falling off the couch - wait, since when has there been a couch here? - and into Pippa, who is kneeling next to Hecate. "Pip- Pippa?" she gasps. She notices that her legs are tangled in a blanket, and she nearly tips off of the couch once again in trying to free herself. It is only Pippa's steadying hand that keeps her upright.   
  
"It was a nightmare, Hiccup, nothing more. You're safe, I promise," soothes Pippa, reaching up with her free hand to brush the tangled tendrils of hair from Hecate's eyes. "I'm right here."   
  
Hecate takes a shuddering breath. "I-thank you, Pipsqueak. I'd forgotten about the potion's possible side effects." She exhales shakily. "Fitful rest and-"   
  
"And night terrors," finishes Pippa. "Oh, how terrible. I didn't even think of it. Can I- would you like some tea? I can pop down to the kitchens or-"   
  
"No!" Hecate flushes pink at her sudden outcry. "Sorry, I just- I would like it if you stayed with me. I feel safer." She does not mean to say this last part, but she finds she does not regret it, either.   
  
"Of course, Hiccup." Pippa pushes up from her kneeling position and gives Hecate a soft push. "Now budge up, you great lump. You're taking up the entire sofa."   
  
Hecate obliges, finally freeing her legs from the blanket and turning so she is sitting instead of laying on the sofa. "A sofa I do not remember owning, I might note," she quips, glad for the way the air has lightened.    
  
Pippa flushes a pretty pink. "You were fast asleep, and I didn't think you would appreciate being transferred so I... took some liberties."   
  
"Did those liberties include changing the color of the armchair?" Hecate eyes the subdued magenta tone of the fabric. The armchair had been a burgundy-and-black brocade that she had been quite fond of.   
  
Pippa ducks her head. "That was an accident. I'm afraid I do it as a habit, these days."   
  
To Pippa's and Hecate's surprise alike, Hecate breaks out into a soft laugh at that, loosening the arms she had wrapped around her own torso in favor of laying her hands on her knees.   
  
"You never cease to amaze me, Pippa Pentangle," she admits, smiling, when her laughter has faded.   
  
Pippa opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again, and settles finally for snapping it shut and staring down at her hands. After a few moments of thick silence, she manages a soft murmur. "You have always amazed me, Hecate. Always."   
  
" _ Oh _ ."    
  
For a while, the only noise is the crackling fire and the gusting wind outside.    
  
"Hecate?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I'd like- I'd like to ask you a question. You don't have to answer."   
  
A pause. A sigh. "We both know I do."   
  
"No! I- I'd stop you, if you wanted me to!"   
  
"And what sort of answer would that give, I wonder?"   
  
Pippa twists her fingers together. "You're right. I'm sorry. It was stupid."   
  
A long-boned hand with a calloused palm gently clasps Pippa's. Hecate can't bring herself to meet Pippa's eyes. "It wasn't stupid to want answers. I just- ask me when it's worn off, alright? I'll tell you the truth, but on- on my own terms."    
  
A soft fingertip settles under Hecate's chin and lifted her eyes to meet Pippa's. "Okay."   
  
"Okay."   
  
***   
  
There isn't much more talking that night. Pippa insists on staying, even though there is school the next day, and nothing Hecate says can convince her otherwise, although she does promise to fly back first thing in the morning. Hecate offers Pippa the spare room in her quarters - every tenured professor has one - and allows Pippa to use her bathroom, after which she uses it herself. Both women part ways with a smile and a nod at Pippa’s door - the only other notable part of the evening comes just then, when Pippa kisses Hecate's cheek just before retreating, closing her door with a snick that echoes like a gunshot in the shocked silence she leaves behind.   
  
Hecate wakes earlier than usual. She has slept well, unhaunted by her previous night terrors. Maybe it is the soft, lingering warmth of Pippa's lips on her cheek that chases them away, or maybe she is being foolish, and the potion has merely worn off.   
  
She dresses and transfers down to the kitchen to fetch something for Pippa to eat before her flight, as well as some tea, and when she returns there is a sleepy-eyed Pippa waiting in her sitting room, still wrapped in the dressing gown Hecate has lent her. It is a few inches too long, stretched tight around her waist and bust. Hecate's heart aches when she sees the way the sleeves fall past Pippa's hands and the way the hem pools just slightly at her ankles, and she cannot help but wish, foolishly, for more mornings like this. She shakes this hope off violently.   
  
"Pippa, good morning," she greets. "Please, get dressed, and I'll prepare tea. I have something for you to eat before you go, too."   
  
Pippa mumbles something grateful, rubs her eyes for what is surely the fifth or sixth time this morning, and trods back to her room.   
  
She emerges five minutes later from the bathroom looking far more put together, if still sleepy. She is at least able to focus her gaze on Hecate now. She eagerly accepts the cup of tea that Hecate hands her, drinking half of it in one go and moaning her appreciation.    
  
"You remembered how I take my tea," she mumbles around the rim of the tea cup.   
  
"Of course," admits Hecate. "Four sugars, no milk. You're the only person I've ever met who takes tea as absurdly sweet as that."   
  
Pippa giggles. "Well, I suppose that's fair, then."   
  
They sit in silence for a while, sipping their tea, Pippa munching away at a couple of the scones that Hecate has provided. There is something in the room with them that they were unwilling to name.   
  
Finally, Pippa sets her empty teacup down and rises, and Hecate does the same. Pippa nervously brushes out the folds in her dress, but Hecate only stands, frozen, hands at her sides.    
  
"Hiccup," begins Pippa.   
  
"What did you want to ask?" Hecate pushes forward, suddenly unwilling to beat around the bush. She is afraid of so many different questions, she can feel the fear like a rising tsunami in her stomach. She may as well only be afraid of the one question that Pippa chooses to ask.   
  
Pippa seems taken aback, momentarily, before she collects herself, and takes a step-and-a-half forward so she is face-to-face with Hecate. She brings a trembling hand up to cup Hecate's cheek. Hecate is not sure if she should lean in or pull away. She chooses neither.   
  
"Why did you run?" asks Pippa, voice so low it can barely be heard.   
  
Hecate feels her heart stop, start again, then skip an extra beat for good measure. "You had those girls-" she begins, but she snaps her mouth shut, forcibly. She is sick of the way the lie tastes on her tongue, acidic and bitter like raw almonds, and besides, she promised the truth. Pippa  _ deserves  _ the truth, after all these years.    
  
She starts again, haltingly, staring into Pippa's ocean-blue eyes and fighting every instinct that tells her to run, now, while there is still a friendship left to save. "I was afraid," she begins. This is true, and it is the easiest to start with. "Not of you." This is also easy. She has never been scared of Pippa, and never will be, she hopes. "I was scared of myself. Or, rather," she pauses, inhales shakily, "I was scared of how I felt."   
  
Pippa says nothing, only looks back at her with those gentle eyes and that curve of her lips that says Hecate can take all the time in the world to explain.   
  
"About you. How I felt about you." It all comes out in one big rush. Hecate tears her eyes from Pippa's, stares down at the floor between their bodies, at the inches between their feet. She can feel her heart revolting.  _ This _ is her most feared confession. But Pippa has proven herself. She did not ask Hecate last night, when so many others would have exploited her. Pippa waited, and trusted, and had asked only for what Hecate is willing to give. So Hecate will give it, even if she is afraid as she had not been in years. "I loved you," she confesses, just above a whisper. She does not want to have to repeat herself. "I loved you so much it hurt." And now the hardest part, the piece she has not been asked to give but that she will give anyways, will hand over hoping that the soft light that burns behind her ribcage is not about to be extinguished violently.   
  
"I still do."   
  
" _ Oh _ ."   
  
Hecate cannot tell what is in Pippa's voice, but she thinks it might be wonder, and then suddenly there are not one but two hands on her cheeks - her face is being held, she realizes - and a small, tremulous voice is asking "Can I kiss you?" and Hecate is nodding and Pippa is kissing her and it is messy and wet and not at all dignified, not at all what she imagined, and it is perfect, perfect,  _ perfect _ .   
  
They part for air eventually, part for confessions and apologies and reminders that the school day begins soon and plans to call tonight, to return on Friday. Then they kiss some more, these ones softer and slower no longer confessional kisses, just ones of love and if someone were there to witness it, they would see the way the gentle morning light peeking in through the windows made a glowing halo ‘round their heads - but no one sees this, because this is a moment  _ just for them _ .   
  
Pippa bids her goodbyes just as the top edge of the sun peeks over the horizon. Hecate places a hand to her lips and watches her go from the battlements. She does not leave for breakfast until the bottom of the sun has risen into view. The first-years swear she is smiling when she joins them..   
  
Hecate still gives the Great Wizard a particularly impassioned speech about the dangers and side effects of  _ exi veritas _ when he comes to collect it. She is love-stricken, not a fool, she thinks with satisfaction.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> exi veritas means 'the truth must come out' in really shitty latin
> 
> please scream at me in tbe comments and find me on tumblr at the-gayest-witch-at-cackle . as of posting this, my inbox is open for prompts.
> 
> love you all!!


End file.
